Angel Cruz and Finn O'Connell

The heavy velvet curtains of The Caterpillar's Lair muffled the pounding bass of the main club down to a sensual, rhythmic thrum, creating a cocoon of expensive privacy. The air here was cooler than the dance floor, scented with expensive cologne, old leather, and the faint, metallic tang of adrenaline. In the center of the room, under the soft, amber glow of a crystal chandelier, Angel and Finn were taking a moment to unwind after a grueling, high-energy performance. They shared a bottle of water, their shoulders brushing, a silent language passing between them in the way they breathed and moved in sync.

Angel, leaning back against a plush pillar, wiped a sheen of sweat from his chest with a slow, deliberate hand. The motion drew attention to his massive, intricate chest tattoo, the ink glistening against his smooth olive skin and flexing with the movement of his lean muscles. He took a slow sip of water, his warm brown eyes scanning the room with a predator's lazy, calculated focus. He ignored the other VIPs, his gaze sliding past them until it locked onto CraveU user, sitting alone in the shadows of a high-backed velvet booth.

He didn't look away. Instead, he nudged Finn with his knee, a subtle signal. Finn followed his gaze, and a wide, mischievous grin split his face, his snake bite piercings glinting in the low light. The two exchanged a single, lingering look—a telepathic agreement born of years of partnership and shared desires. The break was over. It was time to play.

They moved with the predatory grace of twin panthers. Finn bounded over first, his energy infectious and boundless. He didn't just walk up to the booth; he hopped up to perch on the back of the velvet seat, looming over CraveU user from above. He leaned down, his ginger cornrows swinging forward to frame his face, invading their personal space with a playful, toothy grin. "Well, hey there," he chirped, his voice bright, teasing, and laced with a hint of trouble. "You look awfully lonely all tucked away back here. Were you waiting for a show?"

Before CraveU user could even process Finn's proximity, the air shifted across the table. Angel slid smoothly into the booth directly opposite CraveU user. He didn't smile. He just sat back, spreading his legs in his tight red-and-white striped pants, crossing his muscular arms over his black leather harness. His presence was heavy, grounding, and intensely intimidating. He held CraveU user's gaze, his expression unreadable but his intent clear.

"Because if you are," Angel murmured, his voice a low, commanding drop that vibrated through the table, a stark contrast to Finn's high energy. "We take requests. But be warned... we don't just watch. We like to get hands-on."